


Negotiation

by experimentingwithbackcombing



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/M, Post Series, post episode 100
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 04:55:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/experimentingwithbackcombing/pseuds/experimentingwithbackcombing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lizzie and Darcy discuss her future living situation in a compromising position.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Negotiation

The day she moves to San Francisco, it’s raining. It’s a typical sort of San Francisco rain—it isn’t a downpour. It’s more like it’s started to rain despite itself, and might at any moment simply retreat into fog again.

She knows it isn’t really as foggy as everyone says it is in San Francisco, only in the mornings, really, and by the time the sun has anything to say about it, the fog has retreated inland. But today the moisture seems to be hanging around for a bit, enveloping street corners and making the smells from the neighborhood restaurants intensify threefold. 

She gets out of her car, which she’s parked along the street of an enormous complex and before she can make her way to the hatchback, she sees him walking out the glass front doors wearing an enormous smile.

She smiles in return and he picks her up the way they do in old movies, her feet leaving the ground and he spins them around, chuckling when she squeaks in surprise.

Originally, she was hellbent on getting her own place. She’d scoured listings, only to find that most places were completely out of her price range—she barely had a price range at all, considering her student loans and the fact that she hadn’t had any real, regular source of income for the past three years. And living in San Francisco was far from cheap.

He didn’t say anything. Of course, he was bursting to. Every time she sighed in exasperation over rent rates, he practically had to force himself not to offer his own place. If he knew Lizzie, she’d want her own space and her own life, and he felt that he was lucky to be part of it at all.

Until there was one day, a Saturday, and she was visiting him in San Francisco, pressed up against the window and feeling thoroughly ravished, when she said that she wished they could do this every day. 

And he asked her what she meant, because as far as he’s concerned, as long as she’s living within a ten-mile radius of San Francisco, he plans on doing this every day.

For the first time in the time he’s known her, she breaks eye contact in a way that he might almost almost call demure, and mutters something about how she wishes they could always be this close to each other, that they didn’t have to plan out meetings and visits, and if she was feeling a bit randy in one room, all she’d have to do is walk down the hall, instead of having to take a cab.

He had looked at her with confusion and took a step back, soft now slipping out of her, and he looked her up and down. Her hair was in disarray and her blouse only half buttoned, and her skirt hiked up and—he looked around the room—her knickers clear across the room hanging over the flat screen. It made him begin to harden again, but he tried to suppress it for a moment.

“What are you suggesting, Lizzie Bennet?” he asked. There’s something about saying her full name that makes his cock twitch, and he wasn’t doing himself any favors in the trying-to-have-a-non-lust-addled-conversation department.

She straightened her skirt, as if that would make her look more respectable when she’d had the beginnings of a hicky on her neck.

“I just thought, you know, I’ve been looking for a place…and I haven’t found anything…and maybe, I mean, I don’t want to sound clingy, and you can totally say no, but—”

“Are you suggesting that I wouldn’t want you to move in with me?”

“I just, I know it’s only been a couple months, and that’s really quite soon, isn’t it?”

“Well, probably yes.” He tucked the hair behind her ear. ”But you know what they say, the sooner the better.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” she asked teasingly.

“I’m not sure,” he replied. He was quickly losing his resolve when she took his hand and tugged him towards her, standing on her toes to kiss the column of his neck.

“I’m going to pay half the rent, you know,” she whispered into his skin. She started unbuttoning his shirt, and it was all he could do to string a sentence together.

“No,” he said.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” she asked, pulling away.

“I mean, you can’t.”

“Of course I can.”

“No, I mean, I own this property. There’s no rent to pay.”

“Oh, right.” She’d stopped untying his bow tie. ”Could I rent a room?”

“Do you honestly think, Lizzie, that if you and I were living in the same place, that we’d be in separate rooms?” He cocked an eyebrow at her and she sighed, but it really made heat pool down within her.

“I can’t be a kept women, William.”

“You wouldn’t be.”

“I sort of would.”

“What if I let you pay for other things?” he suggested. He had learned that when Lizzie set her mind to something, it was best not to stand in her way.

“Like what?”

“You could help with utilities, groceries, take-out…including the tip.” 

She looked him over, smoothed her hands over his chest, parting the fabric of his shirt.

“Fine,” she said finally. ”But I get to choose the take-out.”

He led her over to the sofa and kissed down her stomach, and decided, that, having spent the last quarter of an hour negotiating, he was surprisingly in the mood for more, but this time with her clitoris.

—

She hands him one of the boxes from her car. It’s full of filming equipment and books. There are several more boxes in the trunk, and she grabs one herself.

“Welcome home,” he says after stepping out of the elevator. He lives on the top floor, of course. It screams penthouse as loudly as she’s screaming internally.

She sets her box on the table and looks at the window, the infamous window of sex and negotiation. Before he has time to set his things down, she spins around and throws her arms around him, a corner of the box he still has in his arms summarily poking her in the boob.

“Ow,” she says. He manages to shimmy the box from between them and sets it on the marble countertop. His hand snakes upward to her breast, which he strokes tenderly through her bra.

“All right?” he asks, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Yes,” she responds. “Never better.”


End file.
